Vigilantes on the Front Lines
by Valaina Wynn
Summary: WWIII is here, and another Draft has begun. All males between the ages of eighteen and fifty are required to sign up, and females have the option. But with the older heroes shipped off to war, the question arises: who will defend the home front?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I thought of this during World History today, since we're doing projects on different battles during WWII right now. It felt like a cool idea at the time, so I thought I'd try it out, see how the people of the interwebs like it. So…here you go!**

_As of this moment, January 19__th__, 2017, the United States of America is at war._

The announcement came at 3 o'clock in the morning without any warning, coming straight from the mouth of the President of the United States. The only reason Bruce caught it was because he was up doing some late-night research on a gang that had recently cropped up in Gotham; it had been causing some trouble in some of the seedier parts of the city. But suddenly that was nothing compared to the headline that flooded the screen, flashing the words of war in bold black block letters.

It was such a surprise that Bruce didn't register the news at first, just stared at the computer with a blank look. Then he realized: it was war. He quickly maximized the window, scanning the article with sudden determination. Snippets of sentences and paragraphs floated across his hard blue gaze.

_Early this morning, a state of war was issued in the following countries…_

_ -the fighting has spread through Europe and Asia, and is estimated to reach South America in no more than a month._

_ The Prime Minister of Canada has announced that he is allying his country with the USA and…_

_ Drafts are most likely inevitable…_

The last sentence took the cake.

_Drafts? _He thought, realization finally dawning._ That means…_

It was surreal, really. Bruce sighed and rubbed at his eyes, his heartbeat increasing with every passing second. This was World War III. Keeping the window open, he walked to the wall of the cave and pressed his finger to the button on a panel fastened there.

"Dick, are you awake?" Bruce took his finger off the button and waited. Soon, a tinny voice crackled through the small speaker, coming from the intercom in Dick's room.

"_Is there a reason you're 'comming me in the middle of the night, Bruce?" _His voice was foggy with sleep, but only just slightly annoyed. Bruce sighed; how was he going to tell his kid this? He chose the easiest way.

"Come down here, to the Cave. I'll explain then."

"_I'll be right there." _Dick's voice was serious now, more awake. He had definitely sensed that something was going on, since Bruce never called him down during the night unless there was a big problem.

Sure enough, the soft sound of Dick's bare feet could be heard patting down the stairs from the secret Cave entrance. Bruce turned in the chair he had returned to and faced his son with a grim expression. Dick's face soon matched as he sensed the gravity of the currently unknown situation he had evidently just walked into.

"Bruce, what's going on? Why did you call me down here?" He approached his mentor, and the man that he had come to think of as a father seemed to crumble before his eyes.

"We're at war, Dick." The younger vigilante blanched at the answer. He stepped closer to Bruce, suddenly desperate to find out more about this startling yet mysterious piece of information.

"What you mean, 'at war'"? At war with who?"

"The whole fucking world, apparently." Bruce's face was stonier, even more so than when he wore the cowl, and that was saying something. Dick was still confused, though even more alarmed than before.

"Show me how you know." Bruce beckoned him to the giant computer and mutely pointed to the screen, which was still lit up with words of war. Dick's face visibly paled as he read the article, his eyes catching all the same things Bruce's had. When he finished, all the color in his normally tan face was gone, washed away by the mere horror of the article.

"This can't be happening," he whispered, more to himself than Bruce. "This has got to be a joke! Why would Asia issue w_ar _on _us_? And Europe, to boot. Oh, this isn't real, it can't be…"

He started mumbling to himself, speaking so quietly that even Bruce's sharp hearing couldn't pick up the words.

"Dick, calm down." The billionaire put his hands on his son's shoulders. "I'm sorry to say it, but this _is real._ It's incredibly, absolutely real, and there's nothing we can do about it. I don't know why Asia would declare war on us. I don't know how Europe is a part of it. But I _do _know that, no matter what, the United States is going to make it through this. _We're _going to make it through this." As Bruce talked, he could more feel than see Dick relaxing, the tension in his shoulders slowly being released. The younger hero finally seemed to come to his senses.

"What about Tim? And Alfred?" He asked, panic suddenly alight in his eyes. "What if something happens and they can't defend themselves or-"

"You know as well as I do that both of them are more than capable of taking care of themselves in almost any situation," Bruce interrupted, effectively stopping his oldest son's babbling. "Tim is just as trained as any of us in nearly every form of combat imaginable, and Alfred –although past his prime, I'll admit that- can protect both himself and Tim if the need arises."

"If the need arises for what, Master Wayne?" Both Bruce and Dick jumped at the new voice in the room; neither of them had noticed Alfred enter the Cave. Despite it being very early, the butler looked as awake and alert as ever. Bruce sighed and the elder man raised one eyebrow. "Sir?" He was clearly expecting an answer, and certainly wouldn't leave until he received a satisfactory one. Dick decided to take the plunge.

"A war's started, Alfie. World War III." The butler's hand slowly made its way to his mouth, where it stayed for several moments before sinking to rest on his chest.

"Oh my." That was all he could say, and it hardly seemed appropriate considering the severity of the situation. "Shouldn't we tell Master Tim? Before he finds out for himself from a news source, of course."

"We should let him sleep," Bruce countered. "He had a long patrol last night, and it'll be better if he hears the news when he's better rested, instead of half-asleep."

Dick and Alfred nodded.

"I think we should all get some sleep, if you don't mind my saying," Alfred said, his hand discreetly covering a small yawn. "We'll tell Master Tim in the morning before he's had the chance to turn on the television. Over breakfast, perhaps?" The two vigilantes, both now yawning heavily as the panicked rush from the news of war finally began receding, simply dipped their heads in agreement. With a simple goodnight, Alfred turned and retreated back up the steps, presumably headed toward his rooms to get some much needed rest. Once he was gone, Dick sank into the computer chair, his head cradled in his hands.

"I still can't believe this is happening, Bruce." His guardian leaned down to give him a rare hug.

"I know, kiddo. Me neither, really." He straightened up and stretched his arms above his head with yet another yawn. "Now come on. We should both get some sleep, like Alfred said. There'll be plenty of time to worry about the fate of our country when it's light outside." The half-hearted, grim-faced joke fell flat.

Bruce walked up the same steps Alfred had, Dick following close behind. They said their goodnights at the top of the staircase, then Dick shuffled off to his room. Bruce, however, decided to stay up just a bit longer. He practically sunk into the plush sofa in the living room and switched on the TV, making sure to keep the volume low. Every channel was broadcasting the same thing.

War.

Fighting soon possible on the home front.

Civilians already being warned to double-check their locks at night and stock up on supplies like bread and water.

The President giving a speech on the fact that a Draft might soon be in progress.

Bruce switched off the television, shaken to his core. Everything was happening so fast, so soon. It was overwhelming, and he didn't like being overwhelmed. Not being in control of his surroundings. But that was what was happening and there was no way to stop it.

He slowly walked to his room and fell on the gigantic bed. He was asleep from the moment his head hit the goose-down pillow.

**A/N: And that is what you get when I'm writing at midnight. Anyway, did you like it? Hate it? Tolerate it with a scowl on your face? And yes, shame on me for starting a new story while _Hidden Threats _is sitting in my Microsoft, poor and unfinished. Do not fear, readers, it will hopefully be update soon!**

**Tell me what you thought, and if it's worth continuing on. I'll be waiting.**

**~Val**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone! Or Christmas Eve, rather. Anyway, sorry for the wait, but I hope it will be worth it!**

Morning came far too quickly for Bruce's liking, and he grumbled as he rolled over in his bed to turn off the alarm, trying to muster the energy to get up and ready himself for work. Then he remembered it was Saturday. Bruce sighed. He still had to take a shower and then-

The memories and knowledge suddenly bore down on him like a weight, threatening to push him down through the bed and floor all the way into the cave. War. Coming to America. The President's voice on the television, his quotes on the internet, the government telling the country what was happening across the ocean and what would soon be happening in their own backyards.

_Tim! Does Tim know yet? Has Dick told him?_

Suddenly wide awake, Bruce jumped out of bed and bolted down the hallway, not really caring how early it was or how loud he was being. Luckily, both Dick and Tim were still sound asleep when he peeked into their rooms, so the older hero decided that it would be safe to take a shower before his sons woke up. He walked back to his bedroom and entered the adjoining bathroom.

Bruce shower was quick but refreshing, and it helped him shake away the remaining threads of sleepiness that had been clinging to him all morning. Despite the impending doom of the United States, he was remarkably calm. He finished just in time, because as he was pulling a clean shirt out of his dresser, he heard the door of Dick's bedroom open across the hall. Bruce walked out of his room, buttoning the shirt up as he went to greet his son.

"Morning, Dick." Because it wasn't really a good one, was it? The younger man only nodded in reply, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Is Tim awake yet?" He asked, the expression on his face showing that he clearly hoped otherwise. Bruce shook his head, and Dick sighed. In relief? It was hard to tell. "Good. I don't want to tell him about this whole thing just yet."

Bruce had to agree; if a Draft _did _happen, it was likely that both he and Dick would be shipped out. But Tim was only fifteen, too young to go to war. One could only hope. He was shaken out of his thoughts by a new voice in the hall.

"Master Dick, Master Bruce. You two are certainly up early this morning." Alfred had approached them, presumably from his own rooms. Unlike Dick, he looked perfectly awake. But he also looked equally as grim as either of them. "I assume that Master Tim is still asleep?"

"Yeah. Good thing it's a Saturday; he'll be able to sleep as long as he wants." Dick sounded more relieved than anything. Alfred nodded in understanding.

"Well, I'll go prepare breakfast." And with that, the elderly butler was gone, making his way toward the kitchen as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Dick shrugged.

"At least he's not panicking," he said, heading toward the stairs down which the butler had disappeared. "I guess that's the best thing we can do right now. See you at breakfast, Bruce." The billionaire could only shake his head as he watched his son leave.

_Not panicking, my ass. I can tell you right now, Dick, Alfred is panicking plenty on the inside. _He followed Dick down to the kitchen.

Breakfast was good as always, albeit a lot quieter than usual. However, the silence was broken when footsteps were heard upstairs, growing ever closer in a slow, shuffling gait. Dick smiled- small and sad.

"Tim's awake." Sure enough, the teenager soon appeared in the kitchen archway, his eyes bleary and hair tousled. He walked to the table and sat down, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"'Morning." He smiled as Alfred sat a plate loaded with food in front of him. "Thanks, Alfred. Looks good." Tim picked up his fork and stabbed a bit of scrambled eggs. He stopped with the utensil halfway to his mouth, looking around at each member of his unusually quiet family.

"Umm…you guys okay?" Dick and Bruce glanced at each other uncomfortably and Alfred was gone into the kitchen instantly; he obviously preferred to not get involved. Tim could definitely tell that something was wrong. "Tell me."

Dick sighed and took the plunge.

"We're at war, Tim." The teenager's expression changed to one of confusion.

"Wait…what?"

"It's World War III," Bruce contributed quietly. All Tim could do was stare at his guardian, his jaw slack with shock.

"No. That can't be happening. It has to be a joke!"

"That's what I thought too, Timmy," Dick said, "when I heard about it last night." It was obviously not the right thing to say, given Tim's reaction.

"_Last night?!_" The younger man exploded. "You've both known about this since last night, and you never told me?"

Bruce glanced toward the kitchen helplessly. He was hoping that Alfred would suddenly appear and neutralize the situation, but the butler was nowhere in sight.

_ Damn it. _All he could do now was face the wrath of his panicking younger son.

"Tim, it was really late when we found out," Dick said, trying to calm his brother. "We thought it'd be best to tell you in the morning, instead of having to wake you up."

"You still should have told me then." At least he wasn't shouting anymore. Progress.

"Yes, we should have, Master Tim." Alfred's voice floated into the room, and he appeared around the corner a mere moment later, carrying a plate full of bacon. He cast a grim look at his youngest charge. "Yes, I must admit that I found out last night as well. But now you know, so there's not much harm done."

Tim seemed to deflate. Bruce couldn't help but be impressed; Alfred had always had a talent with words.

"I guess there's not," Tim muttered. "Do you think any of the others know? Have you gotten any calls or anything?" By 'others', he meant the other members of the Justice League, of Young Justice. Dick shook his head.

"No one's called, but that doesn't mean they haven't already found out. I mean, we haven't exactly tried to contact anyone yet, either." His face paled ever so slightly. "Babs! We need to get everyone together as soon as possible."

"Of course." Bruce left his chair. "I'll go down to the cave and contact Superman." He disappeared from the dining room. Alfred started clearing up the dishes from the table as his two younger charges also stood up.

"Time to get ready, I guess," Tim said as he followed Dick down the corridor to the grandfather clock.

_Time to get ready for World War III._

**A/N: Honestly, this isn't one of my favorite chapters. It was pretty hard to write, as I'm still working on the emotions, but I suppose it turned out all right. Next chapter should be up before school starts again.**

**~Val**


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